Origins
by ValandMarcelle
Summary: They hadn't always been newsies, of course.


**Oh, man. You guys are going to hate me for this. **

**I'm sure I'm not the only one who has been curious about the newsies, and how each of them ended up at the lodging house. And thus, I present the stories behind some of your favorite newsboys. Unfortunately, they are not very happy tales. **

**I apologize in advance.**

**-Marcelle **

* * *

Romeo had been abandoned for love. His parents had not been the victims of a tragic accident, nor had his brother. They were still living and breathing when they left him, when they simply cast him to the side as though he was nothing to them. He doubted they even remembered him now. He had become a newsie when he was five years old, and he remembered it very clearly. Love had a price, and Romeo was the one who paid.

* * *

"I knew it!" his mother shrieked, startling the boys who sat in silence upstairs. "I knew there was someone else!"

They could hear the smashing of plates against the wall, and Peter found himself growing even more afraid. He was used to the fighting, but not the noise. Was Mother really that angry?

"Don't act so innocent, Tabitha!" His father was shouting as well, something he rarely did, confirming Peter's fears in that moment. If Father was mad, that meant Mother certainly was. "I'm not the only one at fault here! You think I don't know who you've been seeing?"

"You've always been a rotten liar, Montgomery. And I've had enough of it," Mother's voice was much more quiet now, but it did nothing to ease Peter's growing sense of nervousness. He turned to his brother, who sat next to him on the bed. He was staring at the door, as though it would break down at any moment and sweep them into a fight neither of them had anything to do with.

"What are they talking about, Ben?" Peter whispered, tugging on Ben's sleeve with a small hand to get his attention. "What are they gonna do?"

"I don't know," his brother replied just as softly, his eyes leaving the door and resting on Peter as he gave the younger boy a sad smile. "We're just going to have to wait and see, okay?"

"Okay," Peter nodded in agreement. Ben was fifteen, and with his ten years of superiority came Peter's complete trust. Ben always knew what to do, he was so much older and so much smarter in his brother's eyes.

Peter wanted nothing more than to be like Ben someday, to be as confident and brave as he was. He turned to his older brother for everything, and needed him now more than ever. He was always scared when Mother and Father were fighting, and this time they seemed to be reaching new levels of anger.

"Then get out. Get out, Tabitha, and go be with Callum if you can't stand me," Father had lowered his voice as well, but his fury was unmasked. His words themselves seemed to quake with rage, and Peter heard Ben gasp, as though he had grasped the true meaning behind them much better than Peter had.

"Gladly," his mother spat the reply, and the brothers heard the door slam shut, rattling the apartment to it's core. Peter felt the wet brush of tears on his eyelashes before he knew it, and the overwhelming sense that something horrible had just happened.

"Ben...where did Mother go?" he forced himself to whisper, blinking the dampness out of his eyes before looking at his brother. Ben returned his wide gaze with another broken attempt at a grin before heading over to the door.

"I'll find out right now. Wait...wait here," he instructed, clearly trying to work a firm affliction into his tone but failing. "I'll be right back."

"Okay," Peter mumbled out of impulse, watching as Ben disappeared downstairs to confront their father. It wasn't long before he heard their voices begin to rise.

"What do you want me to do, Benjamin? I love her, more than I ever loved your mother," Father was confessing, a spiteful tone painfully clear to Peter. He sounded as though he hated Mother, why would he say that? "Helen wants me to be with her, and I owe that to her. You boys will be fine on your own. It's time you learned how to fend for yourselves."

"I can't take care of Peter by myself!" Ben protested, sounding outraged by the very thought. "We need your help! You can't leave us to go be with some other woman!"

Peter listened with the utmost attention, but the words felt foreign to him, and he couldn't piece them together. It was too much for the boy to comprehend; his head pounded with the dull ache of confusion. What would happen to them now? Where was Father going?

"I can, Benjamin. It's too complicated for you to possibly understand," Father's tone was nothing short of condescending, and Peter felt an anger towards him that he had never felt before. How could he talk to Ben like he was stupid? "Besides, your mother seemed to have no qualms, and neither do I. Helen doesn't like children, so you can't possibly stay with us. No, you will have to make your own way in the world now, and join the ranks of real men. I wish you and your brother the best."

"But, Father-" Ben's protest was cut off with the sharp, final slam of the door, and Peter ran down the stairs in a rush. It seemed as though things were getting worse by the second, and he hated it.

He dashed into the kitchen, where Ben alone was sitting at the table with his head in his hands. His shoulders were shaking, and Peter could tell that his big brother's confident nature had disappeared. It was lost in the sea of sadness that had sprung upon them.

He tentatively approached Ben, wrapping his small arms around the older boy's waist. He felt his hair being ruffled in return, and found that he almost didn't want to know what had happened. Whatever it was, it was casing Ben this much pain, and it scared Peter to his very bones. But still, he was going to find out at some point.

"Where did Mother and Father go, Ben?" he asked quietly, as though raising his voice would somehow make the situation any worse than it already was.

"They...they don't love each other anymore, Peter. And they don't love us," his brother managed to get out, his words trembling just as much as his body was. "They both love someone else now. They went to go be with them. They left us."

Peter's eyes instantly filled to the brim with the salty sting of tears, and his heart felt as though it had shriveled up right there in his chest. Mother and Father had abandoned them, in the blink of an eye. It was so sudden, his mind almost couldn't wrap around the idea of being without their parents. How were they supposed to take care of themselves?

"What are we gonna do?" Peter found himself wondering aloud, noticing how Ben seemed to stiffen at the question.

"I don't know, Peter. It's you and me now, I guess," he answered bluntly after a moment, lifting his head up from the table and looking his little brother in the eye.

"It'll be okay, Ben," Peter assured him, even finding enough courage to offer a smile that Ben was somehow able to return, however briefly. "I know it will."

He wasn't sure where the words had come from, or even if he actually meant them at all. He only knew that Ben was upset, and he should do his best to make him feel better. Besides, maybe they could find a way to make it work if they stayed positive.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right," Ben seemed to have read Peter's mind as he nodded in response, rising from his seat with a kind of newfound determination that served to renew Peter's spirits as well. If Ben believed they could do it, then they could, and that's all there was to it. "I promise you, Peter, we're going to be fine without them."

Peter's smile broadened at the words as he soaked them in, feeling his trust in his brother grow with each passing moment. Ben had a plan, as he usually did, and Peter knew that they would pull through.

If only he had known then that promises are meant to be broken.

* * *

It had been cloudy on the day Peter became a newsie. The day had promised rain from the very start, and the air itself felt heavy from the weight of the storm. Peter watched the clouds swirling in preparation from the window of the apartment, where he was waiting for Ben to return with some groceries for the day. He had requested chocolate, a delicacy they rarely enjoyed, and was hoping they had made enough money that week to finally purchase some.

The past few months had been hard on the brothers, each day presenting the simple challenge of getting by. Ben had been able to pick up a job at one of the many factories in town, resulting in many long hours of solitude for Peter. He had eventually taken to wandering the streets, something he was fairly certain he was not allowed to do and decided to never tell Ben about. It was boring in the apartment, and the streets of New York provided much more in the way of entertainment.

Usually, Peter picked a bench in a different part of the city each day, and watched what happened around him. The roads bustled with activity, with sights and sounds that changed by the minute, and Peter was fascinated by them. How could there be so many people in one place, all doing so many different things?

There was one aspect of the streets, however, that Peter could always pick out from day to day. Each street he watched had one thing in common-the newsboys. They shouted high above the dull roar of city life, reporting the news of the day in excited voices.

The majority of the boys Peter saw with newspaper bags slung over their shoulders were older than him, only a few appearing to be around his age. It seemed like a difficult job to Peter, spending all day outside no matter the weather, yelling out headlines each day. But still, they seemed to be happy with their lives, and so Peter was happy for them.

He could see them now even from the window, keeping an eye on the grey caps that weaved in and out between the traffic of people below. Peter had decided to stay in the apartment that day, due to the fact that he was in the process of recovering from a bout of the flu and because the sky didn't look to be in the best of moods. Besides, Ben would be back soon anyway, and Peter wanted to be there when his brother came through the door.

His wait proved to be over shortly, and Ben returned to the apartment within the hour. Peter knew he should have been happy to see him, but something about Ben's entire attitude seemed off. His arms had been empty when he had come back, rather than clutching the bags of food as he was supposed to, and Peter wasn't blind enough to miss how his brother seemed to rush about the apartment as though he was in a hurry. That in itself was cause for alarm, and Peter knew he had to find out what was going on.

"Hey...Ben?" he ventured cautiously, peering into their shared bedroom and watching as the older boy threw various articles of clothing into their one suitcase. It had belonged to Father once upon a time, and it had laid under his bed untouched ever since he had left. Now, Ben had unearthed it, and Peter began to feel a gnawing sense of dread growing within him. "What are you doing?"

"It's time for me to go, Peter," Ben replied simply, shoving a pair of pants in the suitcase, oblivious to the way the world seemed to fall away from his little brother in an instant.

Peter almost didn't want to accept the words, and he tried his best to convince himself that they were a lie. They had to be a lie, there was no other explanation. Ben wasn't leaving too, he just couldn't...could he?

"What...what do you mean?" he managed to ask, feeling panic begin to overtake him. It wasn't true, it wasn't true...

"It's exactly what it sounds like," Ben rolled his eyes as he turned to look at Peter, glaring at him as though he couldn't imagine anyone possibly being more irritating. He stopped packing for a moment, still holding a pair of socks in his hands. "Look, I met a girl at the factory a while ago. Her name is Suzy, and she's real great. She wants to run away with me, so I'm gonna go."

"W-Well I can come too, right?" Peter stepped further into the room, hoping the closer he got to Ben, the better the situation would become. His brother wouldn't leave without him, especially not for a girl. He wouldn't do what their parents did. "You'll take me with you?"

"C'mon, Peter. You'd be too much of a pain. You're too young, you'd slow us down all the time," Ben sighed with annoyance, successfully ripping Peter's heart to shreds. Ben thought he was a pain. His brother didn't want to be with him anymore. "Besides, Suzy just wants it to be me and her. And I agree."

"But-but-" Peter struggled to form a coherent sentence as Ben slammed the suitcase shut and pushed past him out the door. He followed the older boy down the stairs and through the kitchen, running after him and blocking the door to the apartment.

"Move," Ben ordered, trying to get to the doorknob but being stopped by Peter's hand. "Peter, move! Suzy's waiting for me!"

"You can't leave me, Ben!" the younger boy shouted, the tears having spilled over his lashes and running down his cheeks. He couldn't let this happen, he had to stop Ben. "Please don't leave me!"

"I have to, or Suzy won't love me anymore!" Ben yelled back, his words becoming more flustered by the moment. "She loves me, Peter, and I love her! So I have to go be with her!"

"But I love you, too!" Peter argued, throwing himself around his brother's waist, holding to him tightly and letting the tears fall onto his shirt. "I love you, too, Ben! Don't go without me."

Ben was silent as Peter wept, his desperation made crystal clear. He couldn't imagine being left on his own, made to fend for himself in a world that was much too large for him. How could Ben even think about doing this?

Eventually, his caretaker knelt down to Peter's height, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking him straight in the eye. Peter sniffed, wiping the tears from his face in an attempt to pull himself together. Ben would definitely leave him if he couldn't prove that he was brave.

"Peter...I love you, too, I swear. But this is getting too hard. I can't do this anymore. I'm not ready to be a parent yet. And Suzy...she wants to be with me, and just me. I don't want to lose her, Peter, do you understand that?" Ben confessed, his tone now deceptively soothing. Was he trying to make Peter feel better?

"No, I-I don't..." the younger boy hiccuped, shaking his head as tear tracks began to multiply on his face. Ben sighed, hanging his head for a moment before rising to his feet.

"I didn't think so," he admitted, hand resting on the doorknob that Peter had so foolishly let go of. "You're a kid. But you gotta be a man now, just like me and Father. I can't take care of you anymore. You have to learn to take care of yourself."

The words rang with familiarity, and Peter realized where he had heard them before. Ben really was just like Father. He loved someone else, and now he was going to leave. Peter didn't matter to him anymore. No matter how much Ben said he loved him, he was lying.

"Goodbye, Peter," his former brother almost whispered, ruffling the younger boy's dark hair before pushing the door open and slipping right past Peter's trembling form. The door closed quietly, and the apartment was left in silence.

"No..." Peter mumbled to himself, the reality of what had just happened slamming into him like a punch. Ben was gone. Ben, who had always been there, who had always looked out for him, gone. In an instant. "No!"

Peter's body rushed ahead of his mind, sending him shooting out the door and down the many stairs that led to the street below. He could see Ben's black coat ahead of him, Father's suitcase bouncing by his side as he walked. He felt drops of rain landing softly on his head, but ignored them. Ben was getting further away, walking quickly out of Peter's life, and he couldn't let that happen.

"Ben!" he cried out almost madly, glancing quickly both ways before trying to cross the heavily crowded streets. Carriages and people blocked his path, making it almost impossible to get to the other side. Peter pushed past adults and other children alike, keeping an eye of Ben's rapidly disappearing form. If he could just get across the street in time...

Finally, he emerged on the other side after what felt like forever, searching the street ahead for Ben. But there was no coat, no suitcase. Any trace of his brother was gone, and Peter was hit with a sick sense of finality. Now, he really was alone.

The force of the blow knocked him to the ground, and the boy collapsed without any care of who saw. He felt the hard ground below him and winced as his head struck the side of a nearby building. He pulled himself up against the wall, his body curling into itself as the rain began to fall with more conviction, the drops heavier as they hit him.

The water from the sky mixed with Peter's tears on his face, soaking him to his core. He shut his eyes, trying with all of his being to block out the world around him. There was nothing in it for him anymore. Everyone he had ever loved was gone, and he was no one. Peter let his tears lead him to sleep.

* * *

Sometimes Race really hated rain. It was the one part of the job that irritated him, much more than snobby rich customers or even the meager pay. Rain only made his life harder, as it did now, drenching his few remaining papes and making them thoroughly unsellable.

He had been having a fairly decent day where sales were concerned up until about ten minutes ago, when the slight drizzle had turned into nothing less than a downpour. He sighed in disappointment, tucking the now blurry and flimsy newspapers into his bag and tugging his cap more firmly on his head. So much for hoping to buy those new glasses for Specs today...

Race turned the corner towards the lodging house, grimacing as fat raindrops leaked through his hat and into his hair, sending a chill through his entire body. He wondered briefly if the others had made it back before the storm really picked up, and hoped none of them were still trying to milk any more sells out of the day. Everyone was heading back inside, seeking shelter from the small gale, and there was no one left to even stop to hear the headline, let alone buy a pape.

The rain was always hard on all of them, and Race knew it would take at least a week to financially recover from the large amount of combined profit the newsies had lost.

He shook his head in annoyance, so caught up in his frustration that he almost missed the sight of the small boy huddling against the brick wall of Jacobi's deli. Race stopped in his tracks, eyes wide as he tried to work out what he was seeing.

The kid's entire form shook with cold, and he was squeezing his eyes shut as though trying to make the world disappear. What was a little boy doing out in the monstrous weather? Any kid with common sense would be taking shelter, but not this one. It was as though he didn't notice the rain at all-or maybe he just didn't care.

Race crept closer to the child. He looked to be at least five years old, four years short of Race himself. He had seen homeless boys this young before, of course, but none like the one in front of him now. The rest of them had seemed more accustomed to the harsh truth of their reality, as though they had accepted it a long time ago or simply knew nothing else. But this boy...he was different.

There was a certain vulnerability to him, a kind of sadness radiating off of him which told Race that he hadn't grown up on the streets. Something had happened to the boy, something horrible and recent. And Race knew he didn't have the heart to leave him there.

"Up ya go, kid," he murmured, reaching over and taking the boy into his arms, holding him close against his body to give him at least some source of heat. Race knew he wasn't exactly a furnace at the moment, but it would have to do until they reached the lodging house. He knew the other boys wouldn't mind a new addition, not when they saw this kid.

He looked so innocent, like the kind of boy who could bring light into a room just with his smile. Crutchie could do that, too, and he was only seven. They could use more of that happiness around the place, that much Race was certain of. Besides, they could take much better care of the kid than the streets could any day-and for some reason that he couldn't quite fathom yet, Race wanted to make sure that this particular child was taken care of.

The lodging house soon came into view, and Race quickened his pace. The boy still hadn't woken from his fitful slumber, but let a cry escape him every so often that drew a wince out of Race each time he heard it. He hardly knew the kid, and yet he already hated seeing him in pain.

There was something about him that Race couldn't put his finger on, something that made him feel close to the boy already. His worry increasing with each step, he hurried towards the lodging house, relief only briefly escaping him when he burst through the door.

"Jack!" he called out the moment he was inside, making his way to the bunk beds and setting the boy down on the closest empty mattress. His chest was rising and falling steadily, but tears still traveled swiftly down his cheeks.

Jack was at his side in a minute, carefully looking the young boy over, his mind clearly assessing the situation. Race held a certain admiration for Jack, although he was only a few months older than himself. He was as tough as nails, having escaped from the Refuge about a year ago and made his way to the lodging house out of desperation. He had become a permanent resident like Race was soon after, and had assumed the leadership role quite nicely.

Race knew he had never been cut out for the job, although he had been the oldest one in the lodging house for a while. He felt close to the other boys that lived there, but he had always doubted that he knew what was best for them. Jack, on the other hand, always seemed to have an aura of confidence that surrounded him, one that made Race certain that he would know what to do. After all, he had been the one to bring Crutchie to the lodging house a few months after his own arrival.

"Where'd ya pick this one up?" Jack questioned, drying some of the dampness from the boy's face with a spare rag.

"Found 'im layin' outside of Jacobi's," Race reported, watching Jack anxiously as he tended to the child in front of them almost effortlessly. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, as though he had taken care of children before, and Race wondered not for the first time just what Jack Kelly had been through in the Refuge. "Is he gonna be alright?"

"Yeah, I think so. He's just cold, is all. An' tired, too," the slightly older boy concluded, sighing a bit as he glanced at Race, who felt relief flooding through him at the words. Something told him that he wouldn't be able to stand it if anything happened to the boy laying in front of him.

"Good," he murmured, just as the little boy's eyes began to flutter open for the first time since Race had found him. They were a deep shade of brown, which quickly filled with fear and panic as he took in his surroundings.

"W-Where am I?" he asked quietly, his voice laden with confusion. He looked up at Jack and Race with those big brown eyes, tears still leaking from the corners as he spoke. "Who are you guys? Where's Ben?"

"Woah, kid, take it easy. You ain't got nothing to worry about. You're just in the newsboy lodging house," Jack immediately took control, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder in an attempt to calm him. "We don't know no one named Ben. But I'm Jack, and this is Race. We're newsies."

"Newsies?" the kid repeated, looking back and forth between them as his breathing began to even out again. "Am I gonna be a newsie, too?"

Jack gave a genuine smile at the question as he glanced at Race, who was grinning in return. The kid was cute, Race had to give him that. The others were going to love him.

"Sure, if ya want," he replied with a shrug, watching as the boy returned their smiles with a tentative one of his own. " If ya ain't got no one else, we can take real good care of ya here. Whaddaya say, kid? Wanna join us?"

"I...I guess so," the boy nodded slowly in agreement, and Race playfully stuck his cap on the head of the child sitting in front of them before he could dwell on his answer. It was too big for him, of course, and fell over his eyes, drawing a laugh from the boy as he adjusted it to see.

He was smiling now, a real smile, and Race could see that he wasn't the only one who had taken a liking to him. Jack's eyes were full of fondness as he watched the exchange before turning back to the boy. He fixed the cap so that it was at just the right angle, and their new little brother grinned as Jack spoke.

"Then welcome to the family, kiddo."

* * *

Coming up with a new name for the kid had been a fairly simple task, Race had to admit. It had been chosen the next day, as he and Jack had begun to instruct the boy on the finer aspects of carrying the banner.

"It's all about charmin' da customer," Race had been sure to mention, preparing to demonstrate his point on a nearby woman. She was clearly wealthy, as shown by her clothing choices and the sophisticated way in which she held herself, but Race couldn't bother to feel intimidated. He dealt with woman like her all the time-they were an easy sell.

"Good afternoon, miss!" he called as he made his way over to her, holding the paper high above his head. "You'se is certainly an' educated lady, I can tell. Can I interest you in today's headlines?"

The woman sniffed haughtily, her nose turning up slightly at Race and his clearly unsuccessful sales pitch.

"Not today, I'm afraid," she rejected him, her long skirts swishing as she quickly hurried away from the newsboys. Race frowned, heading back to the others and preparing himself for the ridicule Jack was sure to deal him. Sure enough, the older boy was snickering at his failure, clearly reveling in Race's walk of shame.

"Oh yeah, Race, you'se is quite the charmer," Jack teased, only laughing harder as Race socked him lightly in the arm before gesturing to the kid, who was watching with a bright interest. "I bet he could do better than you."

"You're on, Kelly!" Race retorted without hesitation, handing the boy the paper before pointing out another woman standing a few feet away. "Alright, kid, try ta sell this pape to that lady over there. Remember to compliment her, ladies love that. Ya see her?"

"Yeah, I see her," the boy chirped, happily taking the newspaper from Race before heading over to the woman. Jack and Race crept closer, straining to hear as their young protege attempted to make his first sell.

" 'Cuse me, miss," he said timidly yet adorably, fixing his eyes on the woman as she looked down at him. Race saw her features practically melt as she met the boy's gaze, and knew he had her in the palm of his hand. "Um, would you like to buy a...a pape today?" He quickly glanced back at Jack and Race before turning back to the woman, seeming to have remembered something. "You're really pretty!"

"Why thank you, young man! I'd love to buy a newspaper from a nice boy like you," the woman gushed, handing the boy a whole nickel before taking the newspaper from him in exchange. The kid thanked her and ran back to them with an excited grin, holding up his pay for them both to admire.

"Look what I got!" he cheered, and Race grinned as he ruffled the boy's hair.

"Yeah, I see that," he laughed. He turned to Jack, who was smiling just as broadly, clearly impressed by how effortless the boy's sell had been. "Nice goin' there, Romeo."

"Romeo?" The boy's features wrinkled in confusion at the unfamiliar name. "Is that me?"

Race exchanged a glance with Jack, who nodded in affirmation without even hearing a word. Romeo was just the name for their newsie-in-training-he already proved to have quite a way with woman.

"It sure is, kid," Jack replied. "Every newsie gets a new name when they start out. Yours is Romeo now. Is dat okay with you?"

"Sure! I like it!" The kid-Romeo now, as they had determined-said happily, turning to Race with his newfound excitement. "Hey, I see another lady over there! Can I sell to her, too?"

"Well, you can try," Race shrugged as he handed Romeo another pape. He had no sooner grasped it in his hand before running towards the woman, leaving the two older newsies in the dust.

"Huh. That was easy," Jack remarked as he glanced towards Race, who smirked in agreement.

"Yeah, it was." He watched as Romeo practiced his clearly effortless charm, smiling to himself with a kind of satisfaction that he hadn't felt in a long time. Romeo was going to fit in just fine.

* * *

**I've had this idea for Romeo ever since I wrote my one-shot Promises, so I'm glad I finally got to expand upon it. I've always liked the idea of Race and Romeo being pretty close as well. Up next is Finch! Don't forget to review! **


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